A friend told me that her little boy came home from Sunday School (what's that??) and tried to tell his mother that his teacher said a bad word. She tried not to make a big deal about it, but probed a little and asked a couple questions.

"Are you sure? What did she say?"

"I'm not allowed to say the word, mom. You told me I couldn't."

"Well, in this instance, Joey, it's OK to tell mom what the teacher said", she quickly responded.

Sitting on the stool in the kitchen, swinging his feet in the air, he blurted out, "It's the bad word that Daddy says a lot."

How could she not smirk? She looked away, then with a little composure came back to gaze at her 5 year old's face.

"Honey, you can tell me what she said. You won't be in trouble."

"Well, it's a good thing. How come daddy doesn't get in trouble when HE says it?"

"Joey, daddy DOES get in trouble when he says it, with me, anyway. But you still haven't told me what she said."

"OK, we were talking about camping and being outside and stuff, and she told us that Joshua in the Bible before he camped out and crossed over the Jordan, they left their "Shittim" home.

In a much simpler time, my New Jersey family (the Crane clan) gets together at Uncle Elmer's house. We gather around the piano and sing until the wee hours of the morning. This is where I learn to sing harmony. This is where I feel the inborn connection of singing from the heart and not just from the vocal cords. My grandmother (Anne Crane Beatty) insists that I learn how to sing alto. This is a command that I treasure to this day. She not only bangs out the notes on the piano for me, but she sings the part. She smiles and raises her head up and down, as if to flow with each note. Then she says, "Don't worry. You'll feel it. Listen to the melody line first and then listen for the part underneath the melody." I hear it.

My mother always sings the melody. She's a soprano. Sometimes Aunt Ruth finds her spot too, singing whatever part is left. So, I am determined and destined to fit in somewhere. I search and find my home - the alto part. My voice is deeper than most little girls I know. I am so happy to find my place in the lower timbre. I am nine years old. And it is 1964.

The greatest compliment a singing artist can have (in my opinion) is when a listener says, "I love your singing. I love your tone and texture. I understand every word. But I especially love that you sing in a register where I can sing along with you too!"

There it is. The key. Many worship/inspirational/contemporary songs are difficult for most women to sing. Too high. But when they are keyed down to a lower register where a worshipper (musically inclined or not) can comfortably sing, YOUR song then becomes THEIR song. And if your ministry in music is truly about others like you say, then this should register with you.

Sing your songs; do it with excellence. But get around the piano again. Teach, reach and enunciate and by all means, sing your songs so others can sing along with you. Together.